Now Just Roxie Bell Superstar!
by PepperPot
Summary: Things are getting messy when Roxie's around...read to find out what I mean...review to make me happy...THANKS FOR ALL MY REVIEWS! IF YOU ARE BROWSING THIS, PLEASE READ MY FIC! CHAPTER 14 UP! RATING IS CHANGING NEXT CHAPTER TO R!
1. In the Beginning

Disclaimer: none of these characters belong to me!

What would have happened if Roxie hadn't shot Fred?

"You son of a bitch!" Roxie cried, "You're a son of a bitch!"

She was slumped against the wall, squashed between the big chest-of-drawers and the corner. Sobbing, she watched her one-time lover, Fred Casely, walk through out through her apartment and slam the door. She didn't have the strength left to get up, even though Amos, her husband, was due back soon.

"He lied to me!" she said softly to herself.

Roxie was still in the same place when Amos came in, tiptoeing into the bedroom in order not to wake her. She had, in fact, almost dozed off, cramped as her conditions were, but he still did a double take.

"Rox!" he said, "What're you doing up so late? And why are you crying? And why are you sitting down there?"

"Oh, stop being such a goddam question mark!" she snapped back. She surprised herself, she hadn't realised how irritated she had been with her husband, ever since- well, ever since she had started her string of affairs, she supposed. Amos looked hurt.

"Gee, Roxie, I was only asking you what you were doing down there."

"Yeah, well," she murmured disgruntledly.

"So, what's the matter?" asked Amos, hauling her up.

"Don't you touch me!" said Roxie, pulling away.

She sat down on the bed. Amos sat beside her, a safe distance away.

"For God's sake, quit being so touchy! What's wrong with you, Rox?"

Roxie didn't answer for a second, then swung around to face her husband.

"Okay, Amos, here's what the matter is. You're so boring, in bed and out of it, I have to find myself someone I can have a bit of fun with. Who'll take me to theatres an' stuff, and who won't treat me like some dumb wife who just stays at home all day darning your socks, mending your shirts. Amos, I need more than that!"

Amos sat completely still. Then he spoke, his face burning red.

"You mean, you've had an affair?"

"Uh-huh, about thirty," nodded Roxie, not caring what she said now.

Amos' face moved through shades of purple, scarlet, back to crimson. A vein was standing out on his forehead, and suddenly he stood up, and shouted, "Get out! Thought you could pull the wool over my eyes, huh? Thought I was boring? Well, you can damn well get out of this apartment right now, Roxanne!"

He held his fist up as if to hit Roxie, and she cowered under it. But then, thinking better of it, Amos lowered his hand, and pointed towards the door.

"Now!" he yelled.

Roxie scurried over to the wardrobe where a small case was, and hurriedly stuffed some clothes, her toothbrush from the bathroom, some makeup, and a few other essential items into it. Then, only stopping to put on a fur coat and some terribly unpractical stilettos, she was out of the door, without another glance at Amos. She felt for her purse, and satisfied that it was there, she closed the door, just as Fred Casely had done earlier, to her old apartment and old life.

It was only when she was standing outside the block of apartments that she realised she didn't have a clue where she would go.

"Holy _shit_!" Roxie said, not caring who heard her, "What have I gone and done now!"

Now, you know what you have to do....R&R, please!


	2. The Hotel Resplendent

Same disclaimer as last chapter!

A/N: Thankyou soooo much for your reviews, two in one day! Wow, I'm getting good... Your lovely comments have inspired me to write this next chapter so soon; don't get used to it, though, I'm hopeless about updating!

My notes throughout the fic are in **bold**...

Roxie may meet Billy and Velma, but, at present, I'm not at liberty to say...

Oh, by the way, I love putting... at the end of sentences...

Roxie had been walking for about fifteen minutes when she saw the hotel she was looking for. Seedy, run-down, but most importantly, cheap.

"Thank God!" she exclaimed. Her pointy stilettos were starting to pinch, and she feared that she might have broken a nail. **Shock Horror! (Seriously, broken nails are no joke....)**

Roxie pushed the door open- it spoke volumes about the hotel that its front door was left unlocked until after midnight- and stumbled inside the hotel. Its broken sign proclaimed it to be ' he Hote R plende t' (The Hotel Resplendent, for anyone who doesn't realise), and of the few remaining letters, half of them looked ready to fall off as well.

There was no clerk at the front desk, as she half expected, so Roxie rang the bell a couple of times, then, fed up stormed down the passage way into the staff quarters.

"Excuse me," she said, shaking the snoring clerk. There was no response, so she tried again, shaking him more roughly, and shouting louder.

"Whasamatter?" he said, grumpily rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I want a room, and I want it now," Roxie replied smartly. Never one to say please, her technique made the man move, at least. He walked slowly to the desk, and, equally slowly, took down a key.

"Number 4, first floor," he said in his slightly nasal voice, "Name and address, please."

Roxie began to tell him, then hesitated. Her cunning mind was at work, and she was beginning to figure out a plan.

"Roxie Bell, Apartment 15, Fifth Avenue," she said. **(By the way, I'm English and I live in a house, so I don't really know how addresses work for American apartments...the point is that this is not Roxie's real address)**

The clerk, who Roxie noticed had greasy hair and dirty fingernails, filled in a small book with her false name and address, and nodded.

"That's all. Pay when you leave according to how many nights you've stayed, we don't do meals. I'll carry your case for a dollar," he added, hopefully eyeing up the small suitcase.

"No chance," said Roxie in disgust, and started up the stairs. The man shrugged and went back to his office to sleep.

One of Roxie's heels got caught in a tear in the heavily frayed carpet runner.

"Shit!" she cried, and waggled her foot to get it loose. It came-but without the shoe. What the hell am I doing here, thought Roxie to herself. If I'd just kept my stupid mouth shut!

She went to fetch the wayward shoe, then carried on up the stairs with her case.

She reached the door of number four, and realised that she didn't need her key. It swung open when she pressed it lightly with her perfectly manicured, blood red fingernail (not the one she'd broken).

"Okay," Roxie said, and walked in. She had been faintly surprised when she was given room number four- she hadn't thought there were that many.

Concealing her disgust at her surroundings, Roxie put her case down just inside the entrance, and shut the door. Roxie was a perfectionist. She loved order, cleanliness and tidiness, and she hated living in squalor. She couldn't stand dirt, dust, blood, spiders (or any other kind of creepy-crawlies, especially cockroaches), mice, rats, or vomit. **(Question: is this in keeping with Roxie's character? Please say if it isn't!)**

Gingerly, she picked her way over the debris and forced the window shut. The ragged curtains stopped blowing frenziedly, and the room took on a slightly more ordered appearance.

"Jesus!" Roxie exclaimed, upon poking her head into the painfully tiny bathroom. Alright, she thought, her bathroom at home- no, _Amos'_ bathroom- wasn't the largest ever, but this was pushing it. Roxie stopped herself from thinking this. She had to make do with what she could afford; beggars can't be choosers, as her mother would say. She smiled.

"What would Mom say if she was here now?" she wondered aloud, "Something like: "Well, Roxie, you know I didn't approve of your marriage to Amos in the first place, but you should have stuck with him, not gone off with all these 'fancy men'. But, as you can't undo what you've done, my advice would be to follow your dream." Suppose you're right, Mom. Gee, thanks!"

Roxie did a _very_ good impression of her mother's voice, when she felt like it. Suddenly, she was aware of how silly she would sound if anyone walked in now, and collapsed, red-faced, onto the bed. It was one of the few pieces of furniture in the poky suite, along with a small desk, a stained rug and an ancient wooden wardrobe.

Roxie slept well that night, in spite of the lumpy bed. That morning, she felt revitalised, and set off to find breakfast. A cup of coffee and slice of toast in a small breakfast bar sufficed, and soon she was ready to set off on her new life...

Details of this new life will be revealed...soon. But only if you review!

Actually, I probably will carry on writing, even if nobody reviews me...cos I luv this story!


	3. Roxie and the Big Scary Audtion Guys

Disclaimer: It's pretty obvious who belongs to me and who doesn't.

Thank you to my reviewers, please, if you're reading this and not reviewing, mend your ways!

In the last chapter, nothing really exciting happened- this will change NOW!

After she had finished her morning coffee, Roxie purchased a newspaper. There were always auditions listed in there, sometimes for fairly big clubs, like the Onyx! Roxie thought back to that night when Fred had taken her to the Onyx, and Velma Kelly had been arrested for killing her husband and sister. She also thought back to her conversation with Fred last night. She had told him that if she caught Amos having an affair, she would throw him a 'great big going away party'. Roxie smiled wryly. Wasn't that what Amos had done for her? She supposed he'd want to come crawling back to her soon- but that wasn't what she wanted. No, she didn't want anything to do with him now. She had a new name, and soon she would have a new job and address.

Roxie looked back at the paper. She turned to page eighteen, where she'd seen jobs listed before her marriage, when she was a chorus girl. Not surprisingly, they had moved from there, and she had to flip through the whole thing to find them. At last, she saw the welcome headlines, and sat back to compare the different jobs available.

She didn't want to go back to being a chorus girl- low pay, being treated like dirt, and absolutely_ no_ celebrity went with the job.

So, a headliner. But where to start? Should she apply for every audition going, or start at the bottom and wait for the talent scouts to find her? No, that wasn't like Roxie. She would turn up at every audition with a knock-out number, then take the best offer she could.

Roxie rehearsed wildly in her room for three days, hardly coming out at all. Not until she had this move _perfect_, and that chord _just right_ did she go for her first audition, at one of the best clubs in Chicago. And what an audition it was...

A small, dingy room containing a piano and a couple of chairs. In the chairs sat the owners of the club, at the piano a black jazz player. She nervously said hello to them, and handed her crumpled sheet music to the pianist. He looked through it, tried out a few chords and said, "This is _good_!" in tones of some surprise. Roxie's confidence bounced back. She would show them.

"Name?" said one of the managers, stumping out his cigarette on the arm of the chair.

"Roxie Bell," she replied, holding her head up proudly.

"Age?"

Roxie had to think about that. Too old, and she wouldn't be accepted, not for a newcomer. Of course, if you had started young, you could carry on in vaudeville for ever, if the critics didn't get bored with you. _Too_ young, however, and you would be told to come back in a couple of years.

"Twentyfour," she said at last. The pianist raised his eyebrows slightly, but made no comment.

"And address?"

"I'm living in a hotel at the moment- but when I get some work, I'll get myself a brand new apartment."

Her questioner nodded. "What's the name of the hotel?" he queried.

"The Hotel Resplendent."

He nodded again. "I know it. Now, what are you going to sing?"

"Um, well, I wrote it myself, it's called 'Nowadays'."

"Go ahead," the other man smiled.

With butterflies suddenly pounding in her stomach, Roxie stepped up next to the piano.

"Five, six, seven, eight," the pianist muttered to himself. And he began. Listening for her cue, Roxie slid effortlessly into the splits.

"You can like the life you're living..." she started.

Hee hee! What will happen next? I'll continue...if you review.


	4. What Happened After the Audition

Thanks for all your reviews!

Disclaimer: Most people belong to Chicago, but a few might belong to me...you know who they are...

"So, we'll ring the hotel if we have a place for you," said the manager as he shook Roxie's hand.

The other man, the club owner, had said precisely two words throughout her audition, but now, he leant in close to her, and she could fell his breath on her face. Automatically, she flinched away, as he said,

"You, know, you have a great voice- and a great body. I could talk Jonny here round, if you...um... wanted to...you know..."

Roxie looked at him, guessing what he wanted- what most men wanted.

"Sorry, chum, but I've had too many...relationships...to want to start screwing any potential bosses right now."

He laughed.

"Hey, I like your spirit. You'll go far. The job's yours, when can you start?"

"You serious?" asked Roxie in disbelief, giving him that incredulous look that only she (**and Renee Zellweger**) could do.

"Yeah, sure, kid. It's all arranged," he said, pinching her behind. She gave a shudder.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he queried, "Am I _that_ unattractive?"

"God no!" said Roxie with feeling, "It's just, the last time someone said that, he was a mean, dirty, son of a bitch!"

The pianist grinned to himself across the room..

"He welched on a deal," elaborated Roxie, and Andy smiled.

"But anyway," she said, brightening, "I can start tomorrow, if you like..."

"Attagirl!" said Andy.

Sorry, very short chapter! I'm going to post the next one soon, though! I would have added it on to this, but I needed it to be in a different chapter. And I also remembered the famous saying of my great friend (!) Roxie Hart... "Give 'em just enough to get 'em good and hungry, but always leave them wanting more..."


	5. One Year Later

No-one belongs to me. Sob

I am a sweetjazzbabe!

**One year later**

Roxie came home from her work in one of Chicago's top nightclubs. She had a lovely little apartment in a prime location, and it often entertained the top men in Illinois. She was very happy, she thought. She was famous, got paid _lots_ of money, and had all the men she wanted. She no longer had to rely on her good-for-nothing husband, who was still trying to get her back, and she could do whatever she wanted!

"I must be the goddamn luckiest girl in Chicago," she said out loud. But, she wondered, was she really? Just yesterday, Roxie had caught a glimpse of a young, pretty girl, younger and prettier than herself, auditioning for a slot in Roxie's nightclub. Roxie always thought of it as hers, she was the star act, as her manager frequently told her. What right did this girl have to come and audition, she thought.

"I'd better be careful," she said, to no-one in particular, "Else someone will steal all this from right under my feet!"

"Talking to yourself, are we?" drawled an amused voice from a corner. Roxie swung round, and swore.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," she shouted, "What's the big idea? You nearly frightened the life outa me!"

Fred smiled.

"And what the hell are you doin'?" she yelled. "I finished with you about a year ago!"

He smiled again, infuriatingly. Then, swiftly, he moved towards Roxie and pushed her onto the bed, kissing her violently. She flailed her arms and legs, kicking him wherever she could. Then at last, she found her target, and he leapt away from her.

"For Chrissakes, Roxie, what the hell was that for? I know you still want this..." And he started to peel off her skirt.

A year ago, Roxie had hesitated, and he had just walked away. This time, she wasted no time. Kicking him away again, she felt under her pillow for the gun she always kept there. Taking her time, she slowly aimed at his chest and pulled the trigger. She kept on firing with unnerving deliberacy, even after he had fallen to the floor. **(Question: is deliberacy a word? My computer doesn't recognise it...)**

Blood pooled everywhere, and she knew she hadn't much time.

As she filled a bucket of water, she heard footsteps outside her door.

"Holy _shit_! So soon!" she thought, as she closed the bedroom door. Looking through the peephole, she relaxed. It wasn't the police, but her neighbour, who had probably heard the shots. Taking a moment to collect herself, and think of a convincing story, she flung open the door.

"Mr Shale, how are you? Come in!"

"Thank you, Miss Bell, but I won't impose myself on you," he said. Roxie found herself grinning at the man's old fashioned speech.

"Oh no, it's quite all right," Roxie said, and he stepped inside.

"It's just that I heard some...well, they sounded like shots, to me," said the old man.

"Oh, that! Well, did you know that I have a very rare bird," asked Roxie, and he told her that he hadn't known.

"It cost me the earth! But, apart from that, I'm very fond of it. Well, it lives in my bedroom, and I was just coming in with it's food, when I noticed that a cat was coming in through the window and taking a swipe at it's cage! I always leave the window open, it's much healthier, don't you think? Anyway, I keep a small gun under my pillow, it couldn't kill someone, of course, that would be dangerous, but it does scare cats and the like away. So, I got it out, and fired into the air. The cat was naturally scared, and it ran away from my precious little birdie. I'm just about to clean Freddie's cage now. It's loose in the room, so I don't want the door open," lied Roxie.

"I see!" said Mr Shale, "Well, you've certainly put my mind at rest. I thought for a minute someone was shooting you!"

Roxie smiled. "I'm quite alright, as you can see."

Mr Shale left, and Roxie heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"Now I can clean it all up," she said.

Okay, a bit of a weird chapter! The question in the summary is: What would have happened if Roxie hadn't shot Fred? Answer: She would have shot him a year later! Hmmmmmm.....

Thanks for all your reviews, you all rock!


	6. Another fabulous chapter by me

Usual disclaimer, and thanks so much if you reviewed!

Also, I think I had Roxie a little OOC last chapter, she was too clever! Lol, thank you to sunnyhistorian!

Thank you to some of the Triple C as well, for helping me with ways to dispose of a body! They know all about it......................................(not really!)

Oh dear. This A/N is almost longer than this chapter. I'm sorry. You don't know how long it took me to write this, though...

Roxie was hard at work cleaning up all traces of Fred's blood. It was an awful task, best done sooner rather than later. Already, the red liquid was seeping into the carpet, and congealing into a sticky, reddy-brown mass. At last, she decided that she couldn't do any more, and she collapsed onto her bed. Now, what to do with the body? She could burn it, she supposed, but where? And she could imagine the smell...What about dumping it in a river? But how would she get it there? Realising that she had to think of a way, she looked down at the sheet with Fred's lifeless body in it. She stretched out her foot, and poked him gingerly.

Minutes passed, and Roxie began to panic.

"What the hell do I do with you?!" she asked the lump on her floor. Then she laughed hysterically.

"I'm gonna be caught.................and hung!" It all seemed so terribly funny.

"I know," she said to the body, "I'll tie a rope around you, and drag you to DA Harrison's house! It'll be him who prosecutes me, anyway. Oh God," she said, suddenly sobering, "I'm gonna die!"


	7. What Happened Next

I know where this is going now! Wahey!

And just by the way, I KNOW YOU WERE ALL ONLY JOKING ABOUT DRAGGING FRED TO DA HARRISON!!!! BUT ROXIE WAS HYSTERICAL, REMEMBER?! AND IT WAS FUNNY! And, by the way again, you have SICK MINDS!! I mean, who would suggest wrapping a rope around his neck and walking with it all the way to Harrison's so that the head would fall off and the body would be unrecognisable? Which of you was it? Own up!

Usual disclaimer

That night, Roxie crept down into the lobby with Fred's body. It was risky, of course, somebody could come out of their apartment at any time and see her, but she really couldn't think of another way. The sheet-wrapped body was large, awkward, and very heavy. Roxie had to stop every so often to put in down and rest.

She went into the toilets that were just off the entrance hall, panting under his weight. Then, with a mighty thrust, she threw the body out of the open window, using uncharacteristic strength. It landed outside with a thud, and Roxie smiled. She'd got away with it. Just. Hopefully.

Much elated, she clambered up the stairs to her apartment on the second floor. Then, about to put her key in the lock, she stiffened, hearing footsteps on the floor above her. They were coming down the stairs, fast. Hurriedly, Roxie looked around for a hiding place, and found one in the nick of time. As she nestled into the dark cupboard, with all the janitor's brooms and equipment, the running footsteps passed her, and carried on downstairs. In a flash, Roxie flung open the door and stepped out, not even stopping to brush the dust off her clothes. She opened the door and was inside in a trice. Then she shut it noiselessly, took off her dress, flung it across the room and put on her nightie. Without bothering to do anything else, she slipped into bed and was asleep in no time, her conscience miraculously cleared.

The next day, Roxie didn't wake until half past eleven.

"Holy-" she shouted, realising that this was the third time that she'd been late for work in five days. Then she remembered what her manager had said yesterday- she wasn't the only promising act in Chicago, and she'd been going for a year now. The critics would start to get bored of her, he would start to get bored of her soon. And if she carried on being late, on top of all that, well, she'd be out.

Roxie stared at her ceiling. Those words had been harsh, especially after all the nights they had spent together. Suddenly, Roxie thought back to last night, what she had done to Fred. She sat up quickly. The footsteps, she thought. Who had they been? Why where they running down there?

As soon as she walked into the lobby, the answer became apparent. There was a little cluster of people, all talking excitedly. The door to the toilets was open, and Roxie could see policemen looking through the window. She sauntered over to the group of people, and asked them what was going on. They looked at her incredulously.

"You mean, you don't know? You didn't wake up?" said one of them, staring at her.

"When? Last night? No, I took a coupla sleeping pills- I had a bad headache," said Roxie, with an absolutely straight face. She was surprising herself with how easily these lies were pouring out. But then, she'd always been good at lying, ever since she was little.

"Oh, I see," replied the woman, who Roxie dimly recognised as from the apartment below her.

"Well, it was like this," pushed in another woman, "My husband is away at the moment, and I always find it hard to sleep when he's not with me. Anyway, I woke up at about half past one. I tried to get to sleep again, but I couldn't. So I started reading. I read for about an hour, as near as makes no difference, anyway. Then I turned my light off, and I was just drifting off, you know how it is, when I heard a noise outside. I always keep my window open, so much healthier, wouldn't you agree?" Here she looked at Roxie, who felt that something was expected of her. She nodded quickly, and mumbled something that could have been taken for a yes or a no. The woman was obviously satisfied, and she carried on.

"So, I looked out of my window, because it was a very strange noise, not like cats knocking over a bin, or anything, but strange, like something scraping on a window sill. Anyway, I looked down, and I saw a _thing_ being pushed out of one of the windows down here. It was kind of human shaped, but it looked weird- like it was one of them mummies you see in museums and suchlike. I thought for a second, and then I realised which window it was. It was the window out of the lavatory! So, I ran downstairs, and outside, and I looked under the lavatory window. And sure enough, there was a huge package on the ground. I peeled back a few layers, it was a sheet or something, and guess what there was in that package?" She looked at Roxie again. Roxie, careful to keep a bland expression, replied, "I really can't imagine."

"A body, that's what," said the woman, with obvious relish, "A real dead body."

Roxie arranged her face into a mix of shock and revolt.

"Ugh," she said, with faked feeling. "Now, thank you very much for telling me that, but I really have to be off for work."

And with that, she turned and walked out of the door, hips swaying slightly, putting on an act for the benefit of the women who stood watching her go, open-mouthed, Their reactions ranged from disgust at the idea of a jazz act living amongst them, to secret admiration.

Roxie continued until she turned the corner. The she hailed a cab, and settled down into her seat, preparing herself for the onslaught she would receive from her manager.

Hope you liked it! I've just read , it is so good! Lauren, you rule!


	8. Yet Another Tiny Chapterdon't you just h...

These are coming thick and fast! That's because I was blocked from submitting chapter seven earlier. And that's (presumably) because my shortest chapter two ever in All That Food was against regulations because it was only one line. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. When I find out who reported it......

I own nobody. Yet..............

When Roxie finally got into work, her manager was waiting for her. As she walked into her rehearsal room (two hours late), he rose from his chair and started shouting at her.

"Where the hell have you been?" he exclaimed, "This is the last straw, Roxie."

"For chrissakes, there was a _body_ in my apartment block.What the hell was I supposed to do about it?" she replied angrily.

"Let me tell you something, Miss Roxanne Bell, if you'd got your lazy butt out of your bed earlier, you could have got here right on time." His voice was dangerously low.

"And...you're saying what exactly?"

"You're fired."

"I am _what_?"

"You heard. I warned you before, remember?"

Roxie turned away, stunned. Then, cool and calculatingly, she turned back.

"Just one last thing," she said.

"What?" her irate manager demanded.

"This," Roxie replied, and drew her gun out of her coat pocket. She had left it in there in case of an emergency...and she felt this was justified.


	9. This chapter has a name! Roxie and Amos

I'm sorry the last chapter was so short, I just love breaking off in weird places! This is a tiny bit longer...

I still own no-one.

Oh, and I've noticed a mistake in my A/N a couple of chapters ago. I put 'I've just read , it is so good.' What I meant to put was 'I've just read The Chick Clique Hit's Chicago!, it is so good.' Sorry!

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed (I thank you all about every chapter!), and I would like to say that Roxie will be meeting Velma and Billy very soon...stay tuned...

Roxie sat down. She couldn't really believe what she'd just done. She had killed two people in two days...and she wasn't even sorry!

"They deserved it," she said, aloud, to herself, as was her habit nowadays.

"Hey, I can just leave now! No-one saw me come in, no-one has to know anything,"she thought, this time.

So she did, thinking that the taxi driver wouldn't remember her, as she had been sharing with another girl far more glamourous than her. Going through a side door, she stepped out onto the street, and walked back to her apartment. The group of women had gone, thankfully, and so Roxie was able to just go upstairs and think of a story.

Her neighbours would almost certainly remember that she had been going to work, so she had to think where she could have gone instead. Suddenly, a thought hit her.

"Amos!" she said, sitting up straight. He had always been desperate to have her back now she had made a name for herself, and she could pretend that, having second thoughts about going into work so late, she had gone to make it up with him. If only he would play ball. Well, she would never find out if she didn't try. Roxie got up, went over to the 'phone and dialled his number.

"Hello, is that Amos Hart?"

"Yes, who...._Roxie_?"

"Yes, it's me. Amos, I've decided something."

"What?" he said warily.

"I want to come back to you."

"_Roxie_!"

About an hour later, Roxie was walking back to her old apartment...back to her old life. NO! Not to her old life. She was only staying with Amos for a while, just until things were sorted out about her manager.

She climbed the familiar stairs, and knocked on the door of her old apartment. Amos opened it, and tried to embrace her. She wriggled away.

"Let me get one thing straight. I'm here because otherwise I might be accused of murdering my manager. I've been here since twelve, okay?"

"Alright. So...this doesn't mean you still love me?"

"Jeez, Amos, I'm sorry, but no."

Amos turned away, crushed. Then he thought. It had been him who had sent Roxie away in the first place. I deserve everything I get, he thought.

"Roxie?" he said hesitantly.

"What?" she replied.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

"No!" she snapped.

"Okay, okay. Just asking."

Roxie smiled as she walked into the spare bedroom. A new idea for a song came into her head, and she imagined the bandleader introducing it. He swam into her head, just one of the many men Roxie had slept with.

"And now, Miss Roxie Bell will sing a song of love and devotion, dedicated to her husband Amos."


	10. Roxie's Third Murder

Hee hee, this is where it gets really good...watch out world...Roxie is here...with a carving knife...  
  
I want people to review!!!!!!!!! Please!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
I'm going on holiday on Friday :D More when I get back, and I expect to be swamped with reviews...  
  
Roxie sat in Amos' favourite armchair, deliberately winding him up. She was humming softly, a song she was thinking about doing for her next act. The policemen had been too easy to fool. And Amos had acted his part remarkably well. Then there was the press- she was probably better than anyone at manipulating them! She had given interviews, stating that while her manager (oh yes, she always got on well with him...oh no, those rumours were wrong, he hadn't been threatening to fire her....) had been being murdered, she had been trying to make it up with her husband (oh yes, the break-up was entirely her own fault...oh no, she had never stopped loving him...). She was probably even better, she mused to herself, than that lawyer guy, what was his name again? The one who had never lost a case for a woman client? Bobby Slynn? No, Billy Flynn, that was it.  
  
Still humming, she watched Amos from under her eyelashes (false, still lots of mascara, though...did they wear mascara in the 20s?). He was trying to put up with her ever more annoying behaviour. He would lose it one day, though. Roxie had seen before that, although he normally kept his rage bottled up, he could really burst into passionate anger. And Roxie could tell that it would be soon. After a week of living with each other again, they were ready to separate. Roxie wanted to have some more fun before then, though.  
  
"Darling," she said, "could you get me a drink from the kitchen? Cold, alcoholic, ice. Gin if you have any."  
  
That was it! All it took to tip him over the edge. He stood up, the familiar vein pounding in his forehead.  
  
"I have had ENOUGH!" he shouted. "Enough of being treated like a slave in my own goddamn apartment, enough of lying to the police, enough of living with a wife who hates me, annoys me and won't sleep with me!"  
  
Roxie wasn't frightened this time. In fact, she laughed. This made Amos even more angry.   
  
"I'll just be a second, dear," she said, and went into the kitchen. He wasn't going to lie for her any more, that was for sure. What could she do? Suddenly, her eye caught a metallic flash. A long carving knife, Amos had sharpened it yesterday. Roxie didn't think twice after all her 'experience'. She picked it up, feeling the weight in her hand. She came out of the kitchen with it, and just as Amos caught sight of the wicked looking blade, she plunged it deep into his heart. He died instantly.  
  
Roxie seems to be turning into Velma! Which is fine by me...Velma rules!!! But two of them? That can't be good......read the next chapter to find out what happens when they meet....I won't write it unless you review, though, so press the purple button!!! Now!!! 


	11. What to do with the body?

So many reviews! Thanks so much, everyone! Note to self- shamelessly begging for reviews at beginning and end of chapter, and in desperate emails WORKS!!!!!

Viv- Vexie is a great idea...but _what_ exactly is alive? I only ask so that you can help yourself, dear...

So, what happens when DA Harrison gets one step further to the Governor's Mansion by catching the notorious murderess- ROXIE BELL?! Read on...

Actually, I've read this through, and it's over three pages, so he doesn't catch her here...oh well...

"I am a co-old blooded, co-old hearted girl, yeah yeah yeah, two, three, four, " Roxie sang, making it up as she went along.

"I just killed a work of art, leaving a trail of broken glass, from his shattered he-art."

Alright, it wasn't a good song, but she was really getting into it now, transforming into 'stage mode'. She smiled. Broken glass. A trail of very liquid, red "glass" was, indeed, leading from the body.

"Yeah yeah yeah, what should I do? I can't live rest without yo-ou, le-ea-ding me-e, through the pathways of life."

And swinging into the chorus- "I am a co-old blooded, co-old hearted girl, yeah yeah yeah."

Roxie stopped, and smiled again at the corpse. An audience would view it as a song about love, and leaving a man. Only she would know... Which reminded her. How was she going to get out of this sticky little situation? Sticky...the blood was already congealing around the knife, which was embedded in Amos' corpse.

The police were already suspicious of Roxie- she had an alibi for the death of her manager, but Fred Casely had been linked with her, too, thanks to one of the housewives who lived two floors above Roxie and had seen him entering her room. Yes, that had been a very tricky one to get out of, but Mr Shale, bless him, had got a little confused, and thought- and told the police- that he had actually been there when Roxie shot at the cat. Roxie glibly explained that she had had so much trouble with cats in the neighbourhood that she had, after many tears, decided to send the bird to her parents to look after. And the policemen, falling under her spell, hadn't even bothered to check up on it. The manager's death, with Amos there, had obviously been laughably easy to explain. But _three_ deaths, all men connected with her? That would be tricky.

"Hmmm, what to do, what to do?" she murmured, not really taking things seriously any more. If she could find someone who would swear to being with her at the time of the murder, and claimed to have- an jinx, for example- which meant that men she was involved with died? It would appeal to a romantically inclined audience, but, she fancied, not the police. How about...a stalker! Yes, just the right touch. A religious maniac, perhaps, who disapproved of Roxie, and was killing all the men she came near, so that she would be hung as a criminal? Roxie's inventive mind was at work, and, with a sudden flash of inspiration, she pulled out a chair from under Amos' writing desk. She found paper, scissors, a well known brand of paste, and a couple of newspapers. Roxie cut the sheets of paper in half, and started cutting letters and words out of headlines. About half an hour later (it was painstaking work) she had these:

**_Ro_**XiE Yo**U** muSt diE

And:

you m_U_**S**t hanG

Roxie congratulated herself. She would tell the police that she had binned the others, but they said, roughly, that her "stalker" would kill off any men she was romantically involved with, to make the police arrest her on suspicion of murder, so that she would hang as a criminal.

"Genius!" Roxie told herself. Then she started off for a well known coffee shop. She guessed that no doctor could put the time to within half an hour about three days after the death. That was all part of Roxie's plan. She had telephoned a friend, asking if she could stay with them for three days, as "things weren't working out between her and Amos". The shop would provide an alibi until she went to Sarah's, and she could fiddle around with the times a little, just to make sure no-one did suspect her more than necessary. Then, when she returned, she would go into her own apartment, and "find" Amos. Then she would telephone the police.

"Hello, Roxie!" called one of the waitresses. This was perfect. Mary would definitely remember her.

"Hi!" she returned casually, as she sat down at the nearest table. Mary came bustling over to her.

"What'll you have?" she asked briskly.

"Ummm....just a cup of coffee. _Very_ strong, though, please."

"Nothing to eat?"

"Gee, no, I'm watching my figure."

"Okay, then. It'll be along in a second."

It was, a hot cup of the strongest coffee they served. Roxie sipped it, all the while thinking about how lucky she had been. Not just with the murders, but with everything- the act, the club, the money, everything. And all because of having an affair. Time and time again, she had regretted not shooting Fred the first time round. But if she had, she realised, she wouldn't be where she was now. She might be in prison, or something!

Tune in next time...not continuing until 40 reviews!


	12. Enter Harrison

Chapter 12! Now I'm not continuing until reviews...evil grin

Everything went exactly according to plan. She left the café, hailed a taxi, and arrived at Sarah's flat. Sarah welcomed her in the lobby, and the two of them spent three days together, going to the theatre, catching up on gossip, boozing, having a few laughs, as she later told the press.

After that, she went back to Amos' flat. Put the key in the lock, turned it, opened the door, stepped inside the room and screamed. Screamed, and kept on screaming, even when anxious neighbours came hurrying round, and led her away.

"Now, Miss Bell-" the policeman was interrupted by Roxie.

"Mrs Hart, please," she sniffed, "Amos and I were just about to start living together again, you know, properly. And now...now," she broke off and started crying. The young policeman looked nervous. It was his first murder investigation, and, although he had to admit he felt a slight thrill when he thought of it, he was _hating_ interviewing Roxie.

"Oh. I see," he said, taken aback, "Um, well, would you like to leave this until DA Harrison gets here?"

Roxie nodded, still whimpering into her handkerchief.

So the two sat there, not speaking, the silence only broken by Roxie's snivels. Then, the door flew open, and in walked the District Attorney. He pulled up a chair facing Roxie, telling the constable to take notes.

"Miss Bell, I realise that this is very upsetting, but I'd like you to answer a few questions."

Roxie nodded again, scrubbed at her eyes with her hanky, and sat up very straight in the cane backed chair.

"Mr Harrison, I'd appreciate it if you could call me by my proper name; Roxie Bell is my stage name, but Amos and I were about to start living together again. You see, he phoned me up after my manager died-" here a tear escaped from her eye and ran down her pretty face unchecked- "and asked if we could make it up. We...we discovered we still loved each other, and Amos forgave me for everything."

Harrison stared at her for a moment. Roxie held her breath- had he been taken in, or had she piled it on too thick? Then- "Quite," he said, and leaned toward her.

"Mrs Hart. We can't put an exact time to your husband's death. He was, obviously, murdered, and the doctor reckons it happened some time between about six o'clock on Friday and 10 o'clock on Saturday. Can you tell us, please, where you were then, and where you have been until now?"

Roxie gulped. "Well, I was at home all day. Amos phoned me from work to say that he'd be back a bit late, and did I want to stay at my friend Sarah's until Tuesday. He was at work a lot, and he was afraid it wasn't much of a life for me. I phoned Sarah straight away, at about five, and she said of course I could come. It's kinda been in the diary for a long time. Well, I got a case ready, and hailed a cab. I stopped off at the café on Hinden Street, the waitress might remember me? Her first name is Mary. I must have stayed there for, oh, ten minutes. I had a magazine. Then I caught another cab to Sarah's block- Sarah Lane, we were at school together in Lubbock. I arrived there about twenty to six., twenty five to, maybe. Well, we spent the weekend together. I was going to go home on Sunday, but we were having such a good time, I wanted to stay on until Monday. I rung Amos, but I thought he must have been working. And...and...he must have been dead by then!" Roxie broke off once more to start crying.

"Mrs Hart, please, try to keep yourself together,"said Harrison, frustrated.

"I'm trying! It's just that...dear Amos."

"You thought he was at work, what did you do then?"

"Well, he had originally said three days, so I thought he wouldn't mind. So, I stayed on. Then today I came back. I didn't think he'd be home yet, but there he was on the floor, with that awful pool of blood around him..."

"Is that everything?" questioned the District Attorney.

"Uhuh," sniffed Roxie, "Oh..."

"Yes?" snapped Harrison.

"Well, I didn't want to tell you before, I was a bit, well, embarrassed. But I thought I would have to show you these, now that there have been three."

Roxie produced the letters.

"Wow," said the constable, leaning over Harrison to get a better look. Harrison waved him away impatiently.

"Are these all the ones you have been sent?" he asked excitedly. Roxie shook her head.

"No, These were the first two. After the rest started arriving, I began throwing them in the fire when I got one. But I had lost these, I only found them the day I went to Sarah's, and I forgot to bin them."

"Well, it's a very good thing you didn't! Why didn't you show me before? And what did the others say?"

"I was a little embarrassed, that's why I didn't show you. And I thought it must be coincidence. They others said that they would kill any man I was with so that I would hang as a murderer. They said that just killing me was too good for me."

Harrison whistled.

"Alright Mrs Hart, you can go now. Have you got somewhere to stay?"

"Yes, I'm staying here tonight."

"Thankyou."

Roxie was dismissed, and decided to go to bed early. It had been a stressful day! She was rudely shaken awake about an hour later.

"Come on!" Harrison said, shining his torch in her eyes, "We're going down to Cook County Jail, you murderess!"


	13. Unlucky

Hey there everyone! Sorry it's been so long! I haven't abandoned this, but other things have kinda had to come first...Anyway, here is chapter thirteen. Okay, in this chapter, Roxie meets Velma for the first time, in prison. Now, I hear you shouting: "But it's a year after the movie! Velma isn't still in prison!" And Cira even pointed that out in a review...:D But, I _have _thought this through, and she is still in jail. All will be revealed...

Chapter 13 "Unlucky"

"What?" shouted Roxie sleepily.

"You heard," replied Harrison tersely.

"Yeah, sure I heard, but what the-"

He didn't wait any longer. He roughly pulled her out of bed, threw a coat at her, and hustled her outside.

"Get her in the van, Joe," as she was shoved into the prison van.

At the Cook County Jail, Roxie was stripped, measured, pulled around, asked questions about drugs and her job, squeezed into some scratchy brown clothes, and made to sit down in a dingy room to wait for the warden. She was told to put her cigarette out (something she made no move to do), stop talking (likewise) and remove her rhinestone garter that the guard could see when she crossed her legs. Before she could, the female guard was replaced- with a man, who just stared at it. She smiled at him, and stopped having a conversation with the woman next to her to bat her eyelashes at him. After about three minutes of sitting there in silence, with all the room gaping at the ex-jazz honey, the warder came in. Roxie's guard was startled out of his stupor, and quickly jumped up and shouted, "On your feet!"

From that moment, Roxie's world went hazy. She dimly saw a figure in the doorway as it swung open, but after that...it was like she was dreaming. She thought she heard the Matron singing!

When she came round, the warder was walking around the room, telling the women that they would get no special treatment from her...unless she got "special treatment" back. Most of the prisoners didn't understand, the rest did, and were shocked. But Roxie had learnt that to survive in the smoky jazz scene of Chicago, you couldn't afford to have morals, and she met Mama Morton's eye with a smile curling around her lip. She thought that the two would be able to come to some kind of...arrangement...soon.

As the prisoners were filed out of the door, Roxie, last to leave, was stopped by the Matron. Roxie looked unflinchingly into her face.

"You're Hart," It wasn't a question.

"Yes, Ma'am," Roxie replied.

"No, hon. Call me Mama. God knows, everyone else does, and I like the look of you. Now, you'll be habitating down in the East Block. Murderess Row, we call it."

Last year, Roxie would have been naive enough to ask if that was nicer. By this time, she was as hardened a criminal as ever was, and just raised her eyebrows.

"Sounds great," she said sarcastically. Mama threw her head back and laughed.

"You know, Hart, the more I see of you, the more I like you. You're in line for some privileges...if you've got the cash."

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Mama." Roxie replied, and the two left together for the East Block. On the way, Mama slipped perfume into garters, took money from behind ears, put cigarettes in mouths...Roxie was amazed at the amount of black market trading the woman indulged in, and wondered just how far her money would take her.

They got to Roxie's cell. Next door was a haggard looking woman, much older than Roxie, with black hair that needed a trim, and a hooker's amount of makeup that just seemed to emphasise the dark circles under her eyes, and wrinkles on her forehead and in the corner of her eyes. As Mama Morton passed her, she started, and ran eagerly to the bars.

"Anything for me, Mama?" she asked. The matron shook her head, and the other woman sat back down on her bench. Roxie looked at Mama.

"Very sad," she whispered, "Velma Kelly was once the town's most loved jazz singer." She paused, and Roxie jumped in.

"Velma Kelly? _The_ Velma Kelly? Who plugged her sister and her husband? But...she was my idol! I wanted to be like her! I saw her at The Onyx the night she got arrested."

Morton looked amused at the kid (Roxie was young enough to be her daughter) who had been so cool and calm, giving herself away like this.

"Yeah? You and half of Chicago. Anyway, Velma got taken on by Billy Flynn, best damm lawyer in all of Illinois. You'll need Billy, kiddo. But where was I? Oh yeah. Well, Billy got her off- some bullshit about her blacking out and not knowing what she was doing, it's not important- and she was a free woman. Papers had been building up a load of publicity about her, and I'd even arranged for her to play Big Jim's. You know Big Jim's?"

Roxie nodded- it was the top jazz venue in town, her dream, her one ambition.

"Well," continued Mama, "If she didn't throw away everything by lying in court in another case going on at the time. That would have been Liz, nice girl, but had an obsession, with popping gum. Shot her boyfriend after he got on her nerves doing it. Liz needed help...anyway, Vel tried to help her get off by telling the jury about a diary or something. She was found out. Liz hung, and Velma got ten years."

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review!!!!!! And please, if you're reading this, take some time to visit , and my two sites and  Thanks.


	14. Enter Mama Morton

I am inspired by the character of Mama Morton. I started writing her last chapter, and I feel like writing much more now! Thanks, Mama! :D BTW, I noticed that the website I put in my last chapter didn't show up- so it was I don't think I'm allowed the www. bit. Oh, and xNocturnalx, all will be revealed when it comes to Roxie's trial...thanks for giving me such nice reviews and making me feel loved! Warning: Next chapter, this fic will be rated R. Please still R&R!

"Really? Ten years?" Roxie was impressed. Normally, a jury would be more lenient.

"Yeah, Harrison really had it in for Velma. There was some talk about them being an item- they both denied all that. In my opinion-" Morton was cut short by the clanging prison bell, and a voice shouting, "Lights out, ladies!"

She smiled.

"Listen, kid, you'll get on fine here. Come to my office tomorrow, and I'll make a phone call for ya."

"Oh really? What for?" Roxie asked.

"For Billy Flynn, of course! You want Billy, dontcha? Let me tell you this, if you wanna get off without being hung, you want Billy. Now, I can get him for you."

"Yeah, Mama, I'll have Billy. But how much is it gonna cost me?"Roxie stood with her hands on her hips. She had Morton's measure.

The older woman smiled. "Like I said, kid, you'll get on fine. We understand each other. I feel like you're family. So, half price. Fifty bucks."

"Fifty goddam bucks for a phone call? Jeez Mama, you must get a lot of wrong numbers." The women laughed.

"Like I said. You're almost family now."

The next morning, Roxie sauntered into Mama's office before breakfast. No-one else was up yet, and she didn't feel like eating the slop they served.

"Hey, Mama," she said casually.

"Oh, hi, kid." Morton responded, "Talked to Velma yet?"

Roxie swung onto Mama's desk, her skinny legs dangling as she reached for a cigarette. Mama made no move to stop her. Roxie had figured exactly how far she could go.

"No. They're all still snoring. And _do_ they snore!Mama, can I be transferred to a quieter wing?"

"You wouldn't wanna leave poor Mama, now, would you?" They both laughed. Mama put her hand out and stroked Roxie's cheek. Roxie didn't flinch, but she looked away suddenly. She felt something, she didn't know what.

"Aw, c'mon, Hart. I thought we understood each other," said Mama.

"Yeah, Mama, we do. But...I don't feel like it right now."

Mama sighed. "Alright then, how about later?"

Roxie smiled.

"And in the meantime...Billy."

Very short, I know! I just wanted to give a clearer picture of the relationship between Roxie and Mama...R rated for the next chapter, remember! And thanks to sweet775 for reviewing!


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